


Deceptive Cadence

by Mertiya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: A little bit of emotional manipulation, And they're weirdly good for each other?, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Force Choking, Hand & Finger Kink, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Light BDSM, M/M, Really it's a lot softer than I was expecting to be honest, Reasonably explicit consent, Rough Sex, SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI, So does Hux honestly, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: Hux is determined not to let Kylo Ren outmaneuver him.  He's going to get the information he wants out of the new Supreme Leader and resolidify his position.  He's just not expecting the one thing he does discover, and he's certainly not expecting to find out he has anything in common with Ren.





	Deceptive Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> Even villains can be sympathetic sometimes. Honestly, I loved The Last Jedi, and I have a lot of feelings about Hux and Kylo, but I'd be the first to admit they're kind of terrible people. Of course one of my favorite things is reminding everyone, myself included, that terrible people don't have to be one-dimensional...

            He doesn’t know what brings him to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It’s a foolish decision, an emotional one. Armitage Hux prides himself on remaining calm and collected in the face of overwhelming odds, and on always having a backup plan. And yet, right now, he’s driven so heavily by the ticking, turning _pull_ in his chest that he’s hardly able to think straight. The question in his mind is burning, and it’s only partly because if he can truly get the answer, it will set him at least a single move ahead of Ren.

            Knocking on the door sends a thrill of adrenaline through him, and he’s not certain if it’s fear or excitement. He tugs lightly at the base of his glove, half-expecting no response.

            But Ren answers almost immediately. “What do you want?” he snaps. He doesn’t look good, Hux notes; it’s been three days since the Resistance rabble destroyed a cruiser and escaped Crait, and judging from the circles beneath Ren’s eyes, he hasn’t slept since. Hux notes the advantage as he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

            “Why did you do it?” he asks quietly, and he twists his wrist between his hands, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t. Trying to cover his fumble, he starts to strip off his gloves, as if it’s a gesture of politeness rather than nervousness.

            “What are you talking about?” Ren demands. “Get out. I don’t want to talk to you.”

            “The girl didn’t kill Snoke,” Hux says. “You did. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

            He was expecting the pressure on his throat, though he wasn’t expecting to be lifted off his feet, and his feet kick out at the unexpected loss of stability.

            Ren’s face is an inch away from his. “Are you really sure you want me to answer that question?”

            But he’s not surprised this time. He’s ready; he stares back at Ren, struggling to take in air, but not letting his gaze flicker away. There’s a long moment where the darkness starts to close in at the edge of his vision, and then Ren hisses something incomprehensible and lets him down. “Thank you,” Hux says. “Now I know you have a tendency towards the dramatic, so I would like to remind you of the number of troops who are personally loyal to me. You may have the ability to kill me without the use of your hands, but you will not keep the First Order if you do. I am not disposable.” The fact is, one hand is trembling slightly, and, to his disgust, he remembers that Ren can likely feel his fear.

            “What do you want?” Ren snarls, a hand grasping Hux’s shoulder and slamming him back against the wall.

            “I propose a deal.” Hux leans forward. “Tell me why, and I won’t tell anyone else.”

            He sees the flicker of confusion in Ren’s eyes, and the dark-haired man swirls dramatically to the side, running a hand through his hair. He paces in a full circle before returning. “Why do you want to know?” he asks sharply.

            “That’s not part of the deal,” Hux replies, and he knows the corner of one mouth is curling up, even though his hand is still trembling.

            “You seem very sure of yourself. Why would this be so important to you?”

            _Because in a day, you went from pawn to queen. Because I refuse to lose to you. Because I want to know._ “Because I didn’t get to where I am now by leaving loose threads dangling.”

            There’s a brush of sensation across his throat; Hux’s heart pounds hard in his chest. Ren is flexing his hands, the round, broad, crooked fingers, and he doesn’t know why he’s so oddly drawn to watching them.

            “Why did I do it?” Ren hisses, and he moves so swiftly that Hux finds himself backed into the wall before he realizes it. Ren looms over him, and those hands are on his shoulders now. Hux’s stomach turns over oddly. “I did it because all my life I have been in someone’s power, and I am done with it. Because he was hurting me, and the only person I could rely on to stop him was _me_. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be a child, to be powerless, to be betrayed by the person who is supposed to care for you?”

            Pain shoots up Hux’s arm, and his mouth opens before he can stop himself. “Yes,” he whispers, and it’s possibly the first nakedly honest thing he’s ever said to Ren.

            Ren seems to realize it as well; his eyes flick up and down Hux’s form, finally finishing on his face, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles, slow, wide, and almost predatory. Hux’s heart goes thud-jump again, and he tries to hide the fact he’s suddenly finding it oddly difficult to swallow.

            “We’re more similar than I thought,” Ren says, in a slow, considering kind of way, and that’s _unusual_ ; Hux is used to thinking of Ren as a kind of blur of perpetual motion and anger.

            Hux has made a misstep, allowing his vulnerability to show. He’s certain of it, intellectually, but something inside of him is tugging again, in a different sort of way now. “I suppose we are,” he concedes. “Both of us want the First Order to succeed, and—” It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t bother to finish it. Ren is still smiling, although the smile is tinged with something a little wistful.

            He takes Hux’s hands, enfolds them in his large ones. “I can feel what you’re feeling,” he says, and it’s about then that Armitage Hux realizes that he is out of his depth and in imminent danger of drowning.

            “That’s not fair.” He’s trying to sound nettled, but it comes out a little bit too petulant. “How can I respond to that?”

            “More threats?” Ren suggests. “Or I suppose I could make it easy for you.” Those large fingers reaching up, but gently, not threatening this time. They brush along Hux’s cheekbone, and he has to concentrate not to let his breathing speed up. And then, to his shock, Kylo Ren is leaning forward—he’s not so much taller than Hux himself, but Hux would do anything to have his physical presence—and pressing his lips softly into Hux’s.

            This is not what was supposed to happen. This is threatening all of Hux’s carefully-laid plans, and he’s vexed to find that he isn’t particularly bothered to find his plans disrupted. But the truth he was digging for turned out to be so much simpler than he’d expected, and so much more viscerally distressing and viscerally understandable all at once.

            Kylo has pulled back, and is regarding him a little hesitantly now.

            “I thought you could feel what I’m feeling?” Hux tries.

            “Only if you know what it is,” Kylo replies, and he shifts from one foot to the other.

            It’s the fact that he lets Hux see the unease, when he could have hidden it, coupled with the fact that Hux has finally glanced down and seen the crescent-moon marks left in his palm by his own nails when he clenched them, when he realized—it’s those two facts that come together and push him to respond the way he does. Without breaking eye contact, he laces his fingers slowly behind Kylo’s head and pulls him back down. With Hux leading, the kiss is reckless, just on the edge of painful.

            Kylo doesn’t let him remain in control for long, though. In a moment, those hands are on his wrists, pushing him back against the wall; there’s a knee between his thighs. Hux pushes back, shifting his hips forward into Kylo’s, and there’s a moment when the two of them are both focusing on not being the first one to react, and then the moment’s gone, because it’s impossible to know who started trying to thrust first.

            Hux’s breathing has roughened, and he shifts his weight so that he can hook a leg around Kylo’s hips, holding them together as they rub against one another, as their breathing gets shorter and rougher, and their kisses turn to bites and back again. Kylo makes a rough, desperate noise and lets go of Hux’s wrists so that he can put his hands beneath Hux and lift him up against the wall.

            “There’s a perfectly serviceable be—” Kylo’s teeth close in the flesh of Hux’s neck, and the words drop away from his mind and his mouth. “ _God_.”

            Considering pause. “Throat, hm?” murmurs Kylo, breath hot in Hux’s ear. And, oh—Hux may not be a force-user, but he knows what Kylo’s thinking.

            “Don’t you _dare_ , you _bastard_ —” It’s not the Force; it’s nothing mystical now. It’s just Kylo’s hand on his throat, and that’s not _fair_. Hux shifts his hips, but that shifts the hold on his throat, and it sends stars bursting beautifully in front of his eyes. For a long, glorious moment, he just abandons himself to the friction and the heat, the slight pressure and restriction of air.

            Then, shuddering, he plants a hand in the center of Kylo’s chest and shoves him backwards. Kylo stares mutely at him, and it’s infuriating how little he’s pushing now, with the thrum of desire still hanging in the air between them. “Bed,” Hux says, finally, tightly, and those wide, mobile lips break into a smile again.

            The clothes come off easily, shirts and trousers unzipped and dropped by the bedside in a matter of moments. Hux is trembling and trying to pretend he isn’t as he drags his nails lightly down Kylo’s chest and tries to count his scars. He has the oddest urge to kiss all of them, but he dismisses it. Besides, Kylo is pulling him insistently downwards, and the touch of bare skin on bare skin is too tantalizing to resist.

            One hand is on Hux’s thigh, the other back on his throat, and that makes Hux bend forward to kiss Kylo again, the two of them breathing heavy into each other’s mouths. Hux twitches, hitches his hips backward, and finds that he’s slid far enough down Kylo’s stomach that he can just feel Kylo’s shaft brushing against his backside. Kylo takes in a shuddering breath and his hand tightens on Hux’s hip.

            “Do you have lubricant?” Hux asks, pausing for a moment and trying not to say something completely embarrassing, like how much he wants Kylo’s cock inside him at this point. Kylo pushes himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair.

            “Oh, ah, yes. Of course. The drawer by the bed.”

            It’s a small bottle, tucked near the back. Very simple, but it’ll do the trick. Hux returns, kneeling with his legs spread around Kylo, and pours it over his hand. Shouldn’t take too long to prep himself, he thinks, especially not with Kylo flat on his back and regarding him with those wide, dark eyes, that red flush already rising on his cheekbones—Hux moans as he pushes a finger into himself; he can’t stop the vocalization from tearing its way out of his mouth.

            Kylo echoes the noise Hux made, and Hux finds himself smirking a little. He shifts his hips slowly along the length of Kylo’s body, and watches the hitch of breath drawn in as Kylo’s eyes flutter slightly. “This isn’t exactly where I expected my day to end up,” Kylo drawls, the pitch of his voice following a strange trajectory as Hux continues to rub himself along Kylo’s stomach as he grinds down on his own hand.

            “Nor mine,” Hux admits, an easier admission to make than he might have expected.

            “Watching you is—” Kylo breaks off with a short, sharp gasp as Hux slides back down and then pushes himself up till he’s positioned right over Kylo’s erection. After a long moment of watching him, Kylo manages, “—well, I like it.”

            “ _Just_ watching?” Hux asks in amusement, tipping his hips down a little. Kylo shuts his eyes momentarily, then opens them again and reaches out to grip Hux’s hips with both hands.

            “I never said _just_ anything.”

            They move together, Hux swearing and Kylo hissing as Hux sinks down. He waits for a moment, letting himself adjust, and Kylo, to his surprise, is patient enough to wait as well, although the hands on his hips tighten. Then Hux moves, and Kylo stops being patient, thrusting up as his hands pull roughly downwards. Hux can’t help the strangled noise that issues from his mouth as the second thrust sends sensation sparking up his spine. And again—again.

            The hands tighten on his hips, not quite painful. He’ll have bruises on his hips tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter; he doesn’t care. Something brushes lightly across his throat, and his eyes snap open. Kylo’s are open as well, and he smiles, dark and wild and deep. As fingers dig more deeply into Hux’s hip, he feels the pressure on his throat. He takes in a rapid breath, and then he can’t anymore. He’s so hard he’s aching, and as the black dots start at the sides of his vision, dizziness washes over him. The pressure releases him, and he gasps; the air floods into his lungs as Kylo thrusts up, and Hux makes a noise that sounds entirely too much like a squeak for his taste.

            He scrabbles for one of Kylo’s hands, because he needs— _fuck_ —he needs—he wrenches the hand off his hip and puts it on his throat. “I’ll need a different—angle—” Kylo gasps, and Hux nods, and then Kylo’s surging up off the bed and flipping the two of them over.

            Hux lands on his back, and this time he doesn’t shut his eyes. Kylo’s eyes aren’t shut either, but he’s still thrusting as both hands land on Hux’s throat, pressing down again. There’s an almost curious look in his eyes. His stomach brushes against Hux’s criminally neglected erection. Every strip of Hux’s skin feels as if it’s on fire, tingling with sensation, and that simple touch concentrates his mind desperately. “ _Please_ ,” he hisses, and Kylo glances down.

            “Ah,” he breathes, and he presses down with one hand, sending Hux spinning into the glorious dim dizzy headspace, and just as he’s struggling, desperate, thinking that he can’t go without the air any longer, Kylo opens his hand, thrusts, and reaches down with the other hand to tug along Hux’s shaft at the same time.

            It’s like someone set off fireworks in his head. He doesn’t know if he makes a noise, isn’t really sure which of his muscles decide to respond; all he knows is that everything is one long sparking rush of pleasure. When it finally ebbs, he’s basically wrapped around Kylo, and Kylo’s face is buried in Hux’s shoulder. He’s murmuring a string of incoherent words as he thrusts, and then he makes a noise like a sob and stiffens as he climaxes.

            After a long, long moment, he peels himself back. The two of them stare at each other, sudden, wordless caution descending across them both.

            Kylo speaks first. “Will you stay?” he asks hoarsely. “I don’t think we have to think about tomorrow until—tomorrow.”

            Hux doesn’t know how to answer. Every pattern in his life is telling him it’s not safe; even if it is, he’s surely giving up some sort of advantage to agree. And yet—and _yet_. “All right,” he says. After all, two heads are better than one. He’s certainly never been on such good terms with his Supreme Leader before.

            Kylo lets out a breath, leans forward, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Good,” he says. “That’s good.” One more long, hesitant breath, and then it’s Kylo who moves again, curling sideways against Hux. Hux lets him, and, to his surprise, he slides an arm around Kylo. There’s an odd fragility there, and, for once, he has no particular desire to take advantage of it. He’s struck by the fragment of a memory of himself as a child curled up against a cold metal bulkhead, and he’s not sure where it came from.

            At least he won’t be cold now, he decides. And maybe Kylo’s right. Maybe he can just let tomorrow take care of itself.


End file.
